


quad grande-in-a-venti halfcaf 1-pump soy no-foam 173° 1-splenda 2-ice-cubes extra-whip PSL

by kanadka



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, M/M, Past Lives, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-16 20:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16502045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanadka/pseuds/kanadka
Summary: Four spy fiction style tropes; four turnings of a season - like fall to winter, something dangerous around the bend; four times Zoisite worked at a coffee shop and hated his life. After the four billionth pumpkin spice latte, he's starting to get the impression he's done this before.





	1. s̶i̶l̶v̶e̶r̶ pumpkin spice millennium (the Renegade Operation)

**Author's Note:**

> Another year, another Senshi & Shitennou Mini Bang challenge!! I was paired with the lovely, wonderful, superlatively talented and SUPER COOL [verfound @ tumblr](http://verfound.tumblr.com/) who produced soME AMAZING ART for this fic!!! (you can find all of her art [here!!](http://verfound.tumblr.com/tagged/ver-draws)) Once again a huge shoutout to our modly wonders at [ssminibang @ tumblr](https://ssminibang.tumblr.com/) for the great job they did, everybody on the discord who was so chill and wonderful (sorry I never piped up but ilu guys ;A; so amazing and inspirational) and thanks also to my beta [klementienchen @ tumblr](klementienchen.tumblr.com) :D
> 
> I'm a little disappointed with myself that the prompt was autumn and all I could think up was pumpkin spice latte torture.

The scene before him was a beautiful gallery of an airship in orbit around Earth, bedecked in wood-panelling, high ceilings engraved in relief, painted with figures of the gods and heroes, with a massive glittering chandelier. Tonight's entertainment was sweet-voiced chamber music for the gala ball in honour of the Earth royalty and the off-worlder Houses and their retinues, who waltzed back and forth across the ballroom like tall wildflowers in a meadow.

It was Special Officer Zoisite's first time in space. And he had to spend it behind the counter.

"Where's that drink?" asked an off-worlder.

"It's coming," said Zoisite.

The off-worlder scoffed. "This century, maybe? Snap, snap! I've been waiting whole _minutes_ for that punkin latte!"

I will fling it in your face, thought Zoisite, and smiled away his misery.

Whoever invented this drink was a madman. It pepped your senses, made you more aware. So it was a drug, essentially. And Zoisite didn't much care for those, but he'd had a few shots already to try and keep himself from going nuts, and also because they were selling them tonight at twice his hourly pay. It had the nasty effect of shortening his temper, he noticed. Or maybe that was always short, and all this did was remove his restraint. He managed a thin hold on his temper.

He wasn't certain what was worse: manning the bar, or manning the coffee/tea service. Or waiting tables. Communications Officer Jadeite didn't look like he was having too good a time either, but he was hiding it a lot better. He looked poised and handsome and not one hair was out of place. Zoisite had had to retie _his_ three times, _but who was counting_. Off at the bar were his Sergeant Major, Kunzite, and their Weapons Engineer Nephrite. Judging by the way Nephrite was juggling the bottles, Zoisite suspected he wasn't the only one who'd snuck shots. Well, he was mostly getting the drinks in the glasses. And judging by the throng of admirers he'd collected, he was providing entertaining visuals.

The problem was, it wasn't just coffee and tea, it was a well-known coffee chain from Queen Serenity's capital city. It was incredibly popular there, and was virtually unknown to Earth, which explained why both off-worlders and Earthers were flocking in droves to his bar and not Nephrite's.

"Your latte," announced Zoisite.

"About damn time," said the off-worlder. She took the little paper cup and squinted at the box markings along the side. "This was decaf, right?"

The off-worlder definitely had not asked for decaf. Zoisite definitely remembered.

Just say yes, thought Zoisite.

_What if she had a heart condition._

"Let me make it again," he said.

The off-worlder rolled her eyes. "Well I'm keeping this one for a friend," she said.

"You do that," Zoisite murmured, and started steaming more milk.

Zoisite sure hoped Endymion was having fun tonight.

Any moment now the Great Redeemer was to send them an agent to pass information. How this agent had been able to attend the function, Zoisite had no idea - perhaps the movement had been picking up steam lately. Zoisite hadn't attended a meeting in months, too busy with Endymion's bullshit. The problem with Endymion's bullshit was half of it was nonsense like this - pretty little _parties_ for their off-worlder allies, the League of Non-Earth Allies - and the other half was trying to figure out what the Great Redeemer wanted. For example, Endymion had received intelligence of an assassin at this affair. Who the target was, was unknown; how they had gotten past security, also unknown; their intended assassination method, still unknown; apparently, Endymion wanted his closest four guards to perform miracles while also handling menial tasks. 'Stick to the legend', he said. Sure, while Endymion himself stuck to Serenity's daughter. How nice for him.

Endymion had no idea that all four of his closest guards were also members of the Great Redeemer's inner circle. And with luck, it'd stay that way. Zoisite had never met the Great Redeemer himself but he didn't get the impression that he'd be forgiving of a mistake like that. No, Zoisite was useful precisely because of where he was.

That wasn't to say that Zoisite believed entirely in the Great Redeemer's philosophies. They'd started out great from the get-go - an Eastern philosopher, tired of the injustice perpetuated by Elysion Centrum, who was publishing seditious literature that at the time had seduced Zoisite simply for its illicit nature, and later had convinced him that there were distinct problems in this system, problems that neither the Earth Kingdom nor the League of Non-Earth Allies were prepared - or willing - to address. The Great Redeemer had plans, and they had been good ones. Keywords: had been. Sometimes the things he said these days in the pamphlets seemed just as fantastical as the magnitude of the problems he aimed to fix, and Zoisite wondered whether he'd lost it entirely.

The most recent printings had been about Chaos and how to harness its power to benefit, how to use it to spark a Glorious Revolution, how the sun had set on the Elysion Dynasty, and how it would rise valiant and red with the blood of its enemies. In Zoisite's opinion, they were a long way from real action, but the Redeemer had begun to talk as though it were unavoidably just around the bend. That was probably how they were aggregating so many new members so quickly, but Zoisite wondered how many of those believed in the mission, and how many were just there for angry mob catharsis.

Suppose the agent _was_ the assassin, wondered Zoisite. Suppose the information he was supposed to pass them was the identification of the target. Could he really do that? Just hand out a name, knowing that person would die? Zoisite supposed it depended if they were in the line staring at him angrily and waiting for their dumb drinks.

It required a certain amount of finesse and wits and judgment on Zoisite's part to keep both sides happy. At least, that was the plan for now. Whether his allegiances fell truly to one side or the other, Zoisite himself couldn't say. He didn't want to say, honestly. He felt like there was a change in the air, like sooner or later - much sooner than later - he'd have to choose, and he still didn't know which was best, the devil you knew or the one you didn't. But he couldn't deny the pull the Great Redeemer's ideas had on him: he came from a family that wasn't exactly affluent, from the South (where serfdom was still permitted), and the only reason he had ever risen to the rank he had, next to Endymion, was because of his intelligence -

"The _latte!_ " shrieked the off-worlder, snapping her fingers again. Zoisite looked down and realised he'd over-steamed the milk.

It'll taste like ass, he thought.

He grinned.

He tapped the steam jug twice to dispel bubbles and poured it carefully into the mug, wiggling it to make a pretty pattern. "There you go," he said, saccharine sweet, "enjoy."

The off-worlder had previously said when fall came around and the seasonal drinks were out, she drank this concoction daily. If she had any tastebuds left, she would have noticed the scalded milk. Instead, she threw it back like a shot and toddled back to the party, leaving the dirty paper cup on Zoisite's bar. Charming woman, thought Zoisite acidly. Tell me again, Endymion, why we enable these off-worlders? Oh right - because you're in love with one of them.

There were nine more drinks in line and fifteen people waiting at cash to have their orders taken. One of them had better be the Great Redeemer's agent.

"Ex _cuse me_ ," said an off-worlder with an over-gelled hairstyle and a paisley shirt with too-stiff lapels and a single dangly earring that was so long it laid on the padded shoulders (it was a Look), "where is my mid quarter-caf 4-pump-cassia-root 2-pump-vanilla garum-milk no-foam 170-degree latte??"

Holy shit, thought Zoisite.

"Coming right out," he heard his mouth say.

"Zoisite!" said a voice. Jadeite had propped himself on the other side of the bar near the employee entrance. "Having fun?"

"I'm dead inside and you know it," muttered Zoisite.

"Good, good," continued Jadeite, like he hadn't even heard, "listen, lady over in table three -" _is the agent?_ Zoisite's heart skipped a beat - "gave me twenty credits to deliver her a mid-in-a-super whole-milk extra whip pumpkin spice latte. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Yeah, it means _have you seen the line I already have?_ " he snapped.

"So, five minutes, right?" Jadeite grinned.

He marked the cup and started working on it. "Tell me you have information for me, at least," Zoisite hissed. He finished the mid quarter-what the fuck ever and passed it out. The off-worlder took one sip and grimaced, but he didn't make Zoisite remake it, so there was that.

"The _Gee Arr_ is coming in person, not an agent," said Jadeite. Zoisite nearly dropped the milk in shock. "I know. I wasn't given a physical description, but the agent who told me let slip one detail - they're a woman."

"Doesn't change things," said Zoisite.

"No, but it explains a lot," said Jadeite. "Easterner, woman, trying to get anything done? Of course she'd masquerade as a man. I don't blame her. If I could go around as a woman and be completely undetected that'd be great. Too bad that doesn't work outside of the Eastern Kingdoms. I can't believe I never thought of it myself." Jadeite, thought Zoisite, would either make a terrible woman or a beautiful one. "Anyway, because of that, expect her to come to you, and expect her to order what every other woman is ordering this time of year -"

"You're joking," said Zoisite. He set Jadeite's drink on the counter and watched him put it on his fancy waiter tray with its lace napkin. "Is there at least a codeword she'll give me? Some way to identify her? I need something to go on."

"That's all I got. Hey, she's gotta blend in." Jadeite smiled. "Have fun," he said, and blew a kiss.

\--

It took Zoisite's last remaining patience to get through the next drinks. They began to stretch into something of a blur: mid two-pump non-fat no-whip pumpkin spice ... double small no-foam extra whip pumpkin spice (yes, they checked there was no foam underneath the whip) ... four pumpkin spice (four wasn't a size, there were just four of them, and the Earther social climber wanted a tray, but didn't say so until after Zoisite finished the drinks, and then one of the cups crumpled under the weight of its own absurdity - also because it was a hot drink but mostly the absurdity - so Zoisite had to remake _all fucking four of them_ ) ... here a latte, there a latte, everywhere a fucking latte.

The Great Redeemer could be any woman who came by his cash - and they were mostly women, about three-quarters, but the quarter remaining were men or at least presented like men and were every bit as nasty and were also getting this terrible pumpkin concoction, with the exception of Mister cassia-root garum-milk, who had come back three different times. Was he chugging these drinks? Zoisite could not figure it out. He lost track of every customer the second another showed up in line.

He could discount the men easily. But none of the women seemed clever enough.

Kunzite came by to see him. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"Dying, what's it look like," snapped Zoisite.

"Ah, Zoisite, I'm sorry," said Kunzite, and he looked sorry. Kunzite was as sweet and warm as all these terrible drinks, and Zoisite felt instantly bad for snapping at him. "I think you drew the short straw, tonight."

"You don't say," mumbled Zoisite in lieu of apology. "Anyway. Any leads? Who am I looking for?"

"No leads, nothing yet. Jadeite already told you what he knew?" Zoisite nodded. "Well, when she comes by, give her this." Kunzite slid a data crystal across the bar and Zoisite tucked it into his apron pocket. When he looked up, Kunzite had already disappeared.

He was dying to know what it was, what was on it, but he knew that if it were something important, Kunzite couldn't tell him in front of all these people. Kunzite should not even be openly passing information - not that any of the off-worlders were paying much attention. It must have been useable information for the Great Redeemer, if ever she would deign to show herself.

Not for the first time, he wondered if it were information about Elysion. About their security. About the way Endymion staffed his operations. So that the Redeemer could break through the gates more easily.

He did feel a little guilty. The Redeemer had never promised that _nobody_ would die. One couldn't guarantee such a thing, in revolution. But revolution had to happen, and Endymion wasn't leading it, happy in the stagnation that he lived in. Someone had to take up the mantle of change. Didn't that make it right?

Zoisite finished his last drink and returned to the cash to process the next few. "Name for the order," he asked.

A small voice chirped, "It's for Zoisite, please."

He looked up. She was a pipsqueak of a girl with big blue eyes and a short bob of blue-black hair. He frowned. "That is _not_ your name," he said.

She grinned a smile of perfect straight white teeth. Off-worlder. She had to be. "No, it's yours," she said, "I overheard your friend. I just - I just wanted to get your attention."

"Look, I'm really busy," Zoisite snapped, "so you'll have to forgive me -"

"Oh," she said, "yes, I - of course. I didn't mean to be a bother." Her skin was so pale that when she flushed it became really noticeable. She was pink to the neckline of her gown.

Zoisite should really stop snapping at people. He took a deep breath in and began again. "What is your name?" he asked, a little more softly.

The rest of the line began to grow annoyed. The man behind her - Mister cassia-root garum-milk had returned - huffed and tapped his foot. He needs to stop drinking these things, thought Zoisite, it's clearly terrible for his patience.

"Utarit," she replied. Her voice made it sound like music, an arpeggiated piano chord.

Utarit, he thought, taking a stab at the spelling on the cup as he wrote it in chalk pencil. He'd never heard a name like that before. That was saying something for a young man who went by Zoisite, but that wasn't really his name, it was a codename. All of Endymion's highest officers took minerals as identities, to symbolise their attachment to the Earth. Maybe Endymion would be less flighty, less head in the stars, less heart on the moon, and more focused on his obligations to his people here on Earth, if he'd done the same.

Zoisite realised he had spent ten seconds just looking at her printed name. He shook off his reverie, declaring, "That's a ridiculous name," and rang her up.

"Well, I usually go by another," she said, "but I don't want to give you my title."

Ah, yes. Her _title_. Probably owned half of a planet. She didn't even look at the price of the drink as she paid. Part of Zoisite really wanted to hate her for that, but the rest of Zoisite knew he still did not. He was a sucker for a pretty face, wasn't he.

She wanted my attention, thought Zoisite, well, she's got it.

Ordinarily he would have taken the next few drinks and marked them up, too, but he already knew Mister cassia-root garum-milk's order by now. He further knew that Mister cassia-root garum-milk was no nicer when he had to wait thirty seconds less or more, so Zoisite moved onto the bar to make her drink immediately. No modifications, he realised, just a plain, small, pumpkin spice latte.

"I've never had it before," said Utarit, when he asked whether there was supposed to be anything special about the drink. Everybody else had been customising theirs. "I thought, I'd try it without any bells and whistles."

"It'll probably be too sweet for you," he said.

"That isn't possible," she replied. "I love sweet things."

Yeah, Zoisite thought, you look like you do. "I'm surprised you've never had it before," he said. "Surely - someone like you can find it more easily than any one of us Earthers." He didn't mean to sound disparaging but it crept into his voice anyway.

He was so _critical_. It was because she was so sweet that he even noticed it. Kill 'em with kindness, wasn't that what they said? Utarit was very disarming.

Utarit shrugged, a graceful lift of her shoulder. Her skin moved like smooth marble. Holy fuck, Zoisite needed to _stop_. "I don't get out much, with my work," she admitted. "In fact, work's why I'm here."

Zoisite jammed the steam wand lever back and looked at her.

_Work's why she's here._

_This_ was the Redeemer? This - this young - graceful - mannered - beauty? He'd thought the Redeemer was older, philosophical - but he'd also thought it was a man for the longest time -

Zoisite took in all of what he saw in her face in as short a time as he could, scrutinising her. She looked too posh for the job. But - wait - no, she didn't, not really, because the other off-worlders were wearing pounds and pounds of glittery makeup, and Utarit wore only modest pink lipstick. That might even just be her own colour, without any tincture at all. Stop looking at her _mouth_ , he thought.

She never _said_ she was an off-worlder, Zoisite realised. He had assumed...

He poured the drink in, swirling it around to melt the thick syrup. Then he thought better of it and actually stirred it with a spoon. If this drink was for - for the figure he had idolised for their message and their values for the past year, he ought to make it a decent drink. He felt awed; he was in the presence of someone magnificent.

Of course it's her, he thought. It had to be, why she pulled his attention. And she practiced what she preached, engaging with the servant class. It had to be her.

"I have something for you," he murmured.

Utarit leaned forward and smiled. "Do you," she said.

Zoisite finished the drink and set the data crystal inside the whipped cream, sticking out but mostly hidden from view, and turned it her way so she could see it. "Your drink," he said.

Her eyes noticed the crystal and flicked back to his in a quick movement. "This looks very special," she said.

"Enough with the flirting," called Mister cassia-root garum-milk, who was going to get decaf if he didn't shut up, "we're waiting here!"

Utarit winked once and pocketed the data crystal, then walked off out of sight, past the dancing crowds.

Zoisite pulled himself back to cash and returned as best as he could to his regular schedule. He did not even give Mister cassia-root garum-milk the satisfaction of lording it over him, marking his cup almost absently. And if Mister cassia-root garum-milk says anything about how annoying it was that there was only one of him working there and that they had to queue for service like Earthers, as off-worlders _never_ queued, according to Mister cassia-root garum-milk the Ninth of the Rolling Hills of Mare Crisium, while foul-mouthed upstart interlopers like him couldn't stop making eyes at off-worlder ladies, not like he could ever even hope for a touch of their precious hands let alone win their favour with his poor manners and Earthly upbringing ...

Well, Zoisite was too busy thinking of the exact shade of Utarit's eyes, and the graceful curve of her lips or the poetry of her voice, to listen to any of that.

This sustained him until someone with dark hair leaned over the bar and asked for a simple glass of water.

Obediently he took a glass and set it in line, placing it after the three drinks he was currently working on. Water took time to fill and those three drink owners had recently been cruel about having to wait for service, let alone having their drinks ignored while someone with dark unruly Earther hair asked for a free water. Then that someone with dark red unruly Earther hair whispered hoarsely, as the three off-worlders left, "And I'll take anything else you might have for me, Agent Zoisite."

"But I already gave it to your agent," said Zoisite.

There was silence.

"Which agent," said the red-haired woman. She had dangerous eyes and Zoisite felt like he was in the presence of a viper.

"The one with the blue eyes and the blue-black hair," Zoisite replied, pretending like he hadn't been thinking about Utarit and the exact description of her he could give because it was been all he had been thinking of for the past ten minutes.

The viper woman blinked, in barely-suppressed rage. "The Redeemer does not employ such an agent," she said. "I would know. You gave intelligence to _some ninny?_ "

"Not some - ninny!" Zoisite erupted. "You were supposed to order that dumb beverage!"

"And waste the money raised by our supporters on this drivel?"

"They said you would! They said that was how I'd know you!" Zoisite was really in trouble now. "It's not like there was some kind of code name!"

The viper woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a plastic black something - it looked like Northern technology. She pressed a button. "Kunzite, come in, we have a situation."

We should have used a code name, thought Zoisite angrily, as retort. We should have organised ourselves better, you haven't been organising people lately, you've just been inciting them. You shouldn't have trusted me with this job because so many people wanted this dumb drink, you should've given it to Agent Jadeite who had freedom of movement and could walk around and identify targets instead of me who was pinned back here with a constant line out the door.

"Was it important," Zoisite said instead, sullen. "The information I lost?"

"I've seen the kind of people who order this filth," said the Redeemer. "There's no way the person you gave it to was competent enough to figure out the security on it."

Zoisite bit the inside of his cheek. "And if she was," he asked softly.

"She would have to know that you are in the service of Endymion," said the Redeemer. "On the file is nothing more than the violation of the agreement between the Moon Kingdom and Elysion - the off-worlders are already aware of it, it is Elysion's citizens that are not, it would have been the topic of the next leaflet publication. And there are the next three leaflet fliers on the device ready for print. Those were _the only copies_."

It was not Zoisite's fault that the Great Redeemer couldn't _back up her shit_ on a regular basis to not lose data. But he held his tongue and glowered. "So an off-worlder, should she be able to crack the security, would have our leaflets," he said. "So what."

Did off-worlders... know that there were revolutionary leanings on Elysion?

She would have to know that he was in the service of Endymion. Then, for him to have passed this information was evidence of infiltration of Endymion's agents.

She knew his name was Zoisite. Did she know that wasn't an ordinary Earth name? What did off-worlders know about Earth, anyway.

She might know - if she were close enough to Endymion. She'd have to know that all his inner agents used mineral codenames. What kind of off-worlder would know that?

Ah, but who had been dancing with Endymion all night long? The Moon Princess would know.

"If that information gets to the wrong people," began the Great Redeemer. "We could lose the element of surprise."

"Look, as long as she wasn't in the retinue of the Moon Princess herself," said Zoisite. "We're fine." And what was the likelihood of that?

"When the time comes for battle," said the Great Redeemer, "you will lead the forces as punishment for this."


	2. Dark Koffee (the Manchurian Agent)

"This'll never work," said Kunzite.

"This will _totally_  work," said Zoisite. He held up one of the silver discs and waved it in Kunzite's face. Kunzite grimaced, probably because it looked a lot like the spinning discus that wretched Sailor Moon kept using. "People are still renting these!"

"They said that about the magnetic tape, too," Kunzite muttered. "Honestly, when will these backwards people learn that data crystals are the only possible viable medium? They're rewritable, easily programmable -"

"They're not and you know it," said Zoisite.

"They are for people like us, with our resources," Kunzite pointed out, "and if the world fell to our Queen they'd have those resources too. It's their own fault they don't."

"It's not their fault," protested Zoisite. "It's the fault of the Senshi."

"Ah yes," said Kunzite. "The Senshi. The Senshi you were supposed to eliminate. _Those_  Senshi?"

"Don't be like that with me!" whined Zoisite. "I thought I was special to you."

Kunzite softened. "You _are_ special to me," he said, and Zoisite warmed. "That's why you'll succeed where Nephrite and Jadeite failed." 

Well. To be fair, Jadeite and Nephrite failed because they exhausted Her Dark Majesty Queen Beryl's patience, which Kunzite knew, but was very tastefully not saying anything about. Not that Zoisite was terribly sorry about their failures. He wasn't in the least. Now Earth was their playground, and he very much loved it here. Zoisite had every intention of staying.

But, as it turned out, it'd have to be with a new plan, because the Senshi had foiled this one.

"You know what this means," said Kunzite. 

"No," Zoisite ground out.

"I don't even know why you dislike it so much, it's a fantastic idea."

"It's one of Nephrite's ideas, probably," said Zoisite, pouting. "He always was big on that mass stealing energy deal."

"Hm. I thought you'd be uniquely qualified for it," admitted Kunzite.

"I hate you," said Zoisite.

"You don't," Kunzite replied, smiling. He placed the cap of that ugly uniform on Zoisite's head and tugged the brim down to keep it on, an act which utterly ruined Zoisite's hair. Zoisite would remember that. "Don't you look sweet," said Kunzite. He bent and kissed Zoisite's cheek delicately. "As sweet as those - what are they called again?"

\--

" _Pumpkin spice latte for Yuki_ ," shrieked out Zoisite. Come get your goddamn shitty drink, Yuki, he thought.

A chubby smiling girl with pigtails sauntered up. "Thanks," she said.

Die, thought Zoisite.

Zoisite's first efforts in trying to turn the public against Sailor Moon hadn't worked. His second efforts in trying to locate the Silver Crystal hadn't worked. But this plot - to try and obtain as much information as he could on this _incredibly annoying_ Tuxedo Mask fellow, who kept popping up everywhere he was absolutely not wanted - had backfired in a singularly terrible way.

It was working. It was working a little too well, and now the line of customers was out the door.

How was Zoisite supposed to know this was a trendy area? Kunzite had already been by once - that letch, he thought it was grand, and privately Zoisite wanted to tell him that if he thought it was so wonderful he ought to be the barista, but Kunzite outranked him (also, was Kunzite) and so Zoisite said nothing. He thought much, though, all of it varying shades of murderous.

Kunzite was also completely unsympathetic to his plight and had already admonished him three times for not being prepared enough. Zoisite had half a mind to hide what he'd learnt from the customers and give it to Queen Beryl himself, eager to grab all the glory of his information for his own. He'd worked for it, after all. Next time, Kunzite could staff the damn bar.

Zoisite had learned a few things, because the customers were chatty and the handsome masked man in the tuxedo was on everybody's mind, but much of it was conflicting. He was long-legged, or he was tall and broad-shouldered. He had a cape that fell to his ankles, or to his knees. He had a black cummerbund - or was it red? He had dreamy eyes - blue? No, brown. No, green! The group of girls who came in mid-afternoon thought green was the sexiest colour. Zoisite couldn't relate. He'd been in looking in a mirror for, oh, his entire existence and had yet to burst into a paroxysm of lust at his own face. Blue, he thought, if he could pick. A dark blue. He wasn't sure why. 

Some of it was relevant. Tuxedo Mask always seemed to head off west into the city when he made his disappearances. He never appeared during the day, only in the evening. Only when the Senshi needed assistance - only when _Sailor Moon_  needed assistance. And one young man with his girlfriend said, most incriminatingly, "You know, I'm worried about that Mamoru. He's been snoozing through class."

"Well, Chiba-kun commutes from the city, takes awhile to get to all the way to Moto-Azabu," said his date.

"I've never seen him like this, though," said the young man. "He fell asleep in study period yesterday. Muttered something about moon and a silver crystal -"

Zoisite nearly dropped his pitcher of milk.

"- how he needs to find it before the generals do. Must be stressed to be having such weird dreams."

It had to be him. Or if not him, someone who knew something about him. Mamoru Chiba, they said? Lives in the west, studies nearby. What could he want with the Crystal? Moto-Azabu - Zoisite would look up the student list after work. It wouldn't be hard. He'd find this kid's apartment - he'd question him himself - that was useful, and that was information Zoisite would bring back to Queen Beryl -

"Is that latte ready yet?" asked the girl.

Zoisite jerked out of his plans and his hand flew out, knocking the cup he'd prepared to the ground. No matter - he grabbed another, marked the cup hastily, and poured in the ingredients. "There," he snapped, slamming it on the bar.

The girl took the cup and turned it around. "That's not my name," she said, but Zoisite was already on the next drink. Also, he didn't much care. 

It felt very strange to do this job, in a way that the other identities he had adopted recently didn't. Zoisite felt like he should hate being a coffee shop employee that much more, but he couldn't quite place his finger on why besides the obvious - it was servile, it was beneath him, and people were not very kind to him. (Alright, he ought to clarify: some people were not very kind to him, and the rest of them were kind enough but Zoisite was hasty and rude to them, and so they were rude in return.)

Zoisite couldn't even take proper credit for this dumb, terrible idea, because it was Kunzite's dumb, terrible idea. More the reason why Kunzite should be the one working behind the counter, thought Zoisite.

Speak of the devil, and he arrives. But instead of sauntering up to the bar and grabbing Zoisite to speak with him in the back room, as Kunzite usually did when he dropped by with information, he waited in line for a coffee. The repeat customers in the cafe, as well as those waiting in the line that extended out the door, clearly believed Kunzite to be the coffee shop owner (his uniform helped - a well-tailored business suit, much sleeker than Zoisite's terrible syrup-stained apron and hat abomination, damn that handsome Kunzite), and assumed that was why he didn't work behind the counter. Kunzite gave the other customers a bright, friendly smile. Zoisite decaffed the next latte out of spite.

When it was Kunzite's turn in the queue, he stepped to Zoisite's cash. "Can I try one of those spice things?" he asked sweetly.

"You've got to be kidding me," said Zoisite. He marked the cup with _jackass who tries my patience_. "I could've made you one at home." The girls in the line nearest the cash cooed. Zoisite wanted to scream.

"Doesn't taste the same," said Kunzite. "Besides -" and he flicked his eyes over Zoisite's figure - "I like the view."

I'm decaffing him, decided Zoisite. "Do you have information for me or not?" Because Zoisite wasn't sharing his.

Kunzite nodded and lowered his voice. "Back room, ten minutes."

"Are you _kidding me?_ " he hissed. "This line won't be done in ten minutes!"

"So tell them you'll be back, because you need to fetch more product. Anyway, it's true," said Kunzite, gesturing to the gigantic empty bottle that held the pumpkin spice syrup.

"You couldn't make yourself useful and go get some," Zoisite snarled.

Kunzite fingered the lapel on his blazer. "Dressed like this? Darling, you _wound_  me."

Ten minutes later Zoisite forced a break. He told people to leave the store so he could lock up and restock. One of the would-be customers snapped at him, saying that if he had so much business he should really employ another person. Well, she wasn't wrong.

Zoisite let himself into the back room. Kunzite reappeared next to him, cast his gaze up and down Zoisite's body and pressed him against the wall. He flicked open the top two buttons on Zoisite's work shirt. "You look terribly cute in that apron," he murmured, into Zoisite's neck.

"I smell like coffee," Zoisite complained.

Kunzite nuzzled at his neck, and how dare he make it so sensual. "I know, I like it," decided Kunzite.

"I thought you said you had information for me."

"Oh, I've something for you, alright," said Kunzite.

Zoisite took him by the shoulders and held him away at arm's length. "Really. I'm not in the mood."

Kunzite rolled his eyes but obliged. "I can't figure out how they're getting their intelligence," he said, "but there's something about the cat. I tried to follow it and - well, it ducked under a fence and it lost me. It's too fast."

"Cats are like that," said Zoisite flatly.

"This one isn't," said Kunzite. "It has strange behaviour. I think it can sense when we start drawing energy. Or it can sense us. I sensed something from it, though...I couldn't explain why. I haven't seen it around the cafe yet, but that's because you haven't started drawing energy. Do you think you could move that up a bit?"

"Sure," said Zoisite, "means I get out of here sooner. That sounds fantastic."

"Well, maybe not too soon," said Kunzite. He fingered the waistline on Zoisite's pants, where the workshirt was tucked in, and tugged it free. He slid his hand inside, icy fingertips on Zoisite's warm belly.

"I have to get back to that line," gasped Zoisite.

"Come now," said Kunzite, "do you really want to?" He trailed his touch up further, higher, and Zoisite had to agree that the legend was far less appealing. "Let us have just this," Kunzite murmured. He slipped closer and pressed himself along Zoisite's body, fitting his thigh between Zoisite's legs.

"You're insane," whispered Zoisite. He tilted his head up and away, and let Kunzite mouth at his jaw.

Kunzite said, against his skin, "Ah, what's a little madness among friends?"

\--

By the time Zoisite returned to the customers, people were growing impatient but the line had only grown. It seemed like the line itself had become attention-getting. Now people had begun lining up because they wanted to see what could possibly be so great to line up for. Wonderful, thought Zoisite. Then the only way to get rid of them was to make drinks fast enough to shorten the line.

This was easier said than done. He did a shit job on every second latte (and for a half hour, every latte), but couldn't find it within himself to be sorry. When everybody had a cup, he could pick up enough energy that Queen Beryl would have to be proud, even if he did nothing else!

Finally, after an hour, the line dwindled to four customers, then two, and then none. He locked up the store, activated the wards to keep away the Senshi while he collected energy, and returned to the back room to start work.

There was a cat there, perched on the box of extra syrup.

"C'mon, shoo," said Zoisite. The cat did not move. Well, that's cats for you, thought Zoisite. He wasn't entirely sure why he expected that to work. It was all black, with great big eyes, and there was a strange mark on its forehead ...

And that reminded Zoisite about the description Kunzite had given him. "Kunzite," he called out, "are you here? I think I found that cat you wanted."

But there was no reply. He must have been off searching, nowhere near. Then there wasn't much time to lose - Zoisite should start energy collection now, to meet up with Kunzite.

"Well, look," said Zoisite to the cat, because it was nothing but a dumb cat, "I've got shit to do." He turned his back.

"You certainly do," said a voice - female, drawling. "What did you call him? Kunzite?"

Zoisite whirled around -

There was nobody there except the cat, sitting placidly on the box, its tail whipping back and forth.

"You can't talk," said Zoisite. He could hear a faint buzzing in his ears. Nerves, he figured. It's just a cat, he told himself.

"And if I can?" said the cat. It hopped down and took a sly step forward. Zoisite, despite himself, backed up.

Honestly, it was just a _cat_. Zoisite could swing out with his boot and punt it across the cafe if he wanted. If he really were that evil. He was, wasn't he?

"Utarit," said the cat.

"What?" The buzzing grew louder.

"That's the name you put on the cup," the cat replied. It took another step forward, and Zoisite took another step back. "What does that name mean to you?"

Zoisite thought about it -

  
  
  
  


and then his mind fogged, and he blinked. 

He was sprawled on the ground, tripped over a box. One of the bottles of pumpkin spice was overturned and slashed open, spilling thick cloyingly-sweet smelling orange goop all over the floor. All over the bottom of his pants, too. 

Zoisite sat up, but could not for the life of him remember anything that had happened.

"There you are," said Kunzite, who reappeared in full Dark Kingdom regalia. He took one look at the pumpkin-scented lake and stepped back, holding his cape up. "Where've you been?"

Zoisite opened his mouth - closed it - then opened it again. "I don't know," he said finally. 

"Did you get the energy?"

He narrowed his eyes. _Did_  he get the energy? He didn't know. "Not yet," he decided.

Kunzite tutted. "Queen Beryl won't be pleased." Zoisite didn't reply, and Kunzite frowned. "What happened here?"

"I don't know," said Zoisite. "I must've - I blacked out."

Kunzite took a careful step around the pumpkin to Zoisite. "You look terrible. Smell nice. But look terrible." He squatted down carefully next to Zoisite. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Zoisite thought a moment and shook his head. "Something happened. I don't know what."

Kunzite looked at the bottle, slashed open. He reached out and traced the cut plastic with his finger. "Sharp knife," he supposed. "Or supernaturally sharp cat claw." He sighed and got to his feet. "I'll make your excuses with our Queen," he said. "Just this once. Go get some energy."

"Of course," said Zoisite. "Kunzite - thank you." Kunzite nodded and vanished, and Zoisite got to work.

\--

The man - the one whose partner, Kunzite, had called Zoisite, though 'Seiji' is what's on his apron's nametag, because Luna might be in cat form but she could still _read_  - was somehow paused. He looked blank. He wasn't really there, and he wasn't entirely responsive when he was.

"Are you alright?" asked Luna. There was no reply. Luna paced around him, prowling, keeping her distance. 

Luna was not fooled: this was Zoisite, one of the four Dark Kingdom Generals. She recognised his face. She could feel the ebb and flow of the energy from steps away - thick and chaotic, rising off him in waves. But this wasn't how he ordinarily acted. Gone was the prissy attitude; gone was the taunting and derision. He stood there, gormless and unfocused.

There was a muscular tremble in one of his legs and he stepped forward sluggishly, like a stiff mannequin, or as if walking in swamp water, his limbs bound back by weeds. Luna reacted more than she thought about it: in half a second she had backflipped, vaulted off a bottle of some kind of orange liquid and with a swipe of her back paws had kicked it towards him, aiming for the face.

Her claws caught the plastic. The jug ruptured as it fell and painted the floor orange-brown.

Zoisite stepped in it and flew backwards. He landed on the ground and stayed there.

In three quick jumps Luna had climbed to a higher vantage point on a shelf above him. Zoisite didn't move, but something inside him wanted to. The energy felt strange - it felt off. "How do you know that name? Utarit?" Luna asked.

"Someone from my past," said Zoisite, his voice lethargic.

"That's impossible," said Luna. "What were you doing here?"

Zoisite blinked. He shook his head like he was trying to throw off a bee. His eyes fell on her and he narrowed them. "Cat," he growled. "Kunzite's - cat -"

Whatever enchantment was on him, it was wearing off. "Remember Utarit," said Luna, venturing a guess, and Zoisite's eyes slipped back into their glassed over listlessness. "What were you doing here?" she asked again. "Collecting energy?"

"Yes," Zoisite said dreamily, "and information. Tuxedo Mask - comes often. We want to _know_."

"And what do you know about this Tuxedo Mask," asked Luna.

"Mamoru Chiba - Moto-Azabu High School - dreams about moon and the silver crystal," said Zoisite. He frowned, remembering. "My prince has blue-black hair, and blue eyes. Under the mask."

If that was correct, Luna had to tell the Senshi! But there was no way to be sure that it was - maybe this was all a joke.

Luna jumped down to land beside Zoisite. He turned his head to look at her and something in his gaze spoke of recognition. "Cat," he said again, "I think - I'm losing it, cat."

"What is a little madness," said Luna, "among friends?"

Zoisite's face screwed up into anger and he snarled, "Kunzite's - cat -"

"You'll remember none of this," Luna said quickly, and she felt the part of her powers activate that allowed her to toy with human brains. It shouldn't have worked on Zoisite, if he like the rest of the Dark Kingdom were alien enemies. (That led to a stranger question, which she didn't want to ask: were the generals, too, brainwashed slaves? If she told the Senshi that, they might second-guess fighting them in the first place. From past experience, Zoisite did not second-guess when he fought. Luna couldn't take the chance he'd spontaneously develop a sense of compassion.) But Zoisite froze, stilled by the beam of light that arose from the moon-shaped scar on her forehead. "You learned nothing about Tuxedo Mask tonight."

"Eyes," said Zoisite, staring into hers, "blue eyes."

"No," said Luna firmly. "No one you know has blue eyes."

"Utarit does," said Zoisite, plaintive, "blue eyes. Blue-black hair. You call her Mercury."

Luna's eyes widened and she redoubled her efforts. Zoisite grunted with the pain of it. "You will never hurt them again," she said. "You won't go near them."

"It's - aangh - my job," he grunted. "I _have to._ "

"You _will not_ ," said Luna, "try and your attacks will fail. Aim and your strikes will miss," and gave him the fullest force of her strength that she could muster. Zoisite's head fell back against the tile and lay there, still. His eyes slipped shut. 

And if he said anything more, Luna didn't hear it, as she was leaping away, up boxes, off a shelf, out of the window and into the night.


	3. Friends Close, Enemies Closer (Spy vs Spy)

"There's a new coffee shop that's just opened up," said Seiji's mother, when he came home that evening. Mom usually beat him home on long days at university.

"Okay," said Seiji. "What - so you want me to go study there? I didn't think I bothered you that much." He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. Most of it had escaped his long ponytail, which hung loose on the back of his neck. The story he told everybody was that he was too busy to get it cut, but in reality he was vain and preferred his hair long. He wouldn't be able to have it long and coloured for the rest of his life, he might as well enjoy it now.

His mother rolled her eyes. "You don't bother me at all," she said. "I just thought, they're looking for people. And I thought of you since you were saying you wanted to move out, because you want to _abandon me_. Well, I haven't got the money to support you in that."

"Mo-om," he groaned. "I don't want to move out because I want to abandon you."

It was just that it'd be really nice to start bringing people home. And Seiji couldn't do that when his mom was always there. She worked days, if from seven in the morning to nine at night was a day, which it was in Japan. But that was when Seiji was in classes anyway. There was never a real time when he could bring people over. People he wanted to see, romantically.

Okay, people he wanted to sleep with. People were interested in him. And he was interested in them. And the love hotels close to Keio University were nice enough but he couldn't afford an overnight there. But an apartment, maybe with two or three people his age - that could be doable. "I'm twenty-one and I just - I dunno. I want some freedom."

"And you haven't thought about your poor lonely mother, I guess," she replied.

Mom was only forty-five. She was not exactly infirm and in the grip of dementia. She wasn't even near retirement age.

"Well, I'll apply," said Seiji. "No guarantee I'll be hired, right?"

\--

  
Truly, Seiji did not even know why he was even applying, besides the compensation. He didn't like the idea of working in a coffee shop, especially not all the way out in Azabu where he lived. The coffee shop was close to Temple University campus in Minami-Azabu, which was a clever idea. It would mean a lot of students. A lot of them could be foreigners, which means Seiji could practice his English if nothing else. He got the distinct feeling he was going to hate it, but couldn't place his finger on why.

He walked into the coffee shop, willing to give it a chance, and it was nicely decorated, sweet and homey. There was only the one girl on cash and she already had a line out the door. She was as tall as Seiji, with hair thick like his except it was a shiny chestnut brown, pulled back in a high ponytail instead of his which was low and sat on the nape of his neck.

She was really pretty, and something about her drew his attention. He felt some kind of kinship which he couldn't define. "Hello-and-welcome," she said in a breathless exhale, looking at the cash register more than Seiji. "Can-I-take-your-order?"

"Wondering if you were taking applications," said Seiji.

The girl looked up. _Makoto_ , it said, on her nametag. It suited her, thought Seiji. But Makoto was frowning at him - no, glaring.

"What?" he asked. "Look, I've got a resume." He thrust it her way. Not much on it but a volunteer position from the summer at the zoo and his tutoring, but it was something.

"You," said Makoto.

Seiji shook his head. "Sorry, do I know you?" His mom and he had only moved to Azabu when he was thirteen, and they stayed there during all his blackout episodes (which they never were able to figure out at the hospital). The second he graduated high school, he went immediately to university, which was close enough. He knew he'd never seen her before in his life.

Hadn't he, though?

Eh, maybe in dreams, but those didn't count.

"Do you need the help or not?" he asked. "I'm close by, and I need the cash. It'd work out."

Makoto looked at him like she had chopped off a head and he regrew three. "How can you be asking me that," she whispered. "After everything you did."

"There's got to be some mistake," said Seiji, protesting. "I don't think I am who you think I am."

Makoto clearly did not believe him. But she took his resume and looked it over. Then she peered behind him where the line was still long enough, and she looked at the clock. "Think you can start today?" she asked.

\--

Makoto, as Seiji found out, did not exactly thaw towards him, but she told him a few things in their brief conversations, like that she had had a hard life growing up and a lot of difficulty getting through school because of extra-curricular activities. When he asked about those, she shut down completely. She inherited the money she used to open up the coffee shop and she was already making bank on it. That made her a successful twenty-year-old entrepreneur, and Seiji instantly respected her for it. He respected Makoto, but he couldn't say he liked her (she was pretty, and he would gladly sleep with her, but he had a sinking feeling that was never going to be on the table).

The job was monotonous when there weren't customers, but there were always customers. Makoto liked to make him clean when there wasn't a line and she liked to make him make all the drinks when there was one. She was much happier in the back room frosting cakes or baking pastries, and if she was back there sometimes she'd come out and actually smile at him, so Seiji didn't mind - much.

He wasn't thrilled with his new job generally but a job's a job, and he needed the money, and it was less than a thirty minute walk from home, and close to all his classes at Keio, where he was a philosophy and business undergraduate. Seiji hated the business part and wasn't keen on the philosophy part either but had no idea what else to do with his life. He told Makoto that one evening and she smiled. Then he added that it was because something felt missing, but then, that was nothing new, something had always felt missing, and he had had these weird blackouts during middle school and high school. Makoto stopped smiling.

Sometimes Makoto looked at him like she was seeing someone else. Seiji wasn't sure what to tell her to make her feel easier around him. He had tried opening up around her, but he kept saying the wrong thing and it was like a trip wire. She always closed up shop herself and sent him home early, so that she was never alone in the cafe with him. He had noticed that.

On one such occasion, not even two weeks after he'd begun, she sent him home at seven, saying she'd close up shop at eight (there was hardly anybody left in the cafe - most of the university students had already returned to their dorms). Seiji was walking out of the cafe on his way home when there was a rustling movement beside him. He jerked, surprised, but it was only a cat.

"Hey, cat," said Seiji, without thinking, and nodded at it.

Then he stopped to look at it - cute cat, black shorthair, yellow-green eyes, looked hungry ... looked familiar ... and he remembered something about a strange bright light, and -

And he wasn't Seiji Yazawa anymore.

\--

What the _fuck_ , Seiji thought, staring at himself in the mirror.

He'd come home and made a beeline straight for his room. That wasn't exactly atypical for him, and he had a test tomorrow (of all the mundane shit) so his mother didn't think anything of it.

His mother. Mom. Was she even - but of course she was, he had all these memories from earlier, he remembered being a kid, he remembered Dad before Dad died, he remembered all of these things -

But he also remembered hunting down Makoto and her friends like they were prey because Queen Beryl had told Zoisite to find the Silver Crystal or die trying.

He looked at his hands. He had powers, he remembered. He was fast and he could make sharp projectiles out of thin air and he could launch them at people like missiles. He wondered if he still had them. He raised his hands and tried it, concentrating, but he must not have any abilities. Or he didn't know how to activate them. Probably for the best, he decided.

Makoto, he realised. Makoto _knew_. She saw him and she recognised him and that's why she didn't like him very much: she saw only Zoisite. Was he only Zoisite? But he couldn't be.

He didn't believe in past lives. He didn't believe in brainwashing. Where you could be controlled, hijacked, your body taken as a host. No, that was ridiculous. It had to be a trick. Some weird brain thing. Related to the blackouts. And the blackouts hadn't stopped when the attacks had stopped. This was all in his head.

\--

"It's not all in your head," said Jadeite, who had just ordered a pumpkin fucking spice latte. Ryouhei was the name he'd wanted on the cup, but it was blond-haired, blue-eyed, punchable-face Jadeite. The punchable-face part was mostly related to the pumpkin spice part. This goddamn drink, thought Seiji. Zoisite. Both of them.

"How did you know where to find me?" he hissed across the bar.

"Didn't," said Jadeite. "I followed her." He tilted his head to the left.

There was a group of girls there, ogling over the pastry case. "Which her, exactly?" snapped Seiji.

Jadeite rolled his eyes. "You know the one I'm talking about."

Of the group of girls, one had long straight black hair. Rei Hino, Seiji knew. Mars. He'd never even met her before but he knew what the sound of her voice was like and which laugh was hers. Goddamn this, he thought, and made Jadeite's latte in an angry huff. He topped it with whipped cream and sprinkled on nutmeg. "There," said Seiji. "Now get out of my sight, I don't want to think about this right now when I'm working."

"I didn't ask for whipped cream," said Jadeite. "You know I'm lactose intolerant."

Seiji _did_  know that. Seiji had never met Jadeite - Ryouhei - before in his life and he did in fact know that about him. "I don't care," snapped Seiji. "You're gonna take your latte, you're gonna drink it, and you're gonna leave me alone."

"Yeah," said Jadeite, "because I'll be in the bathroom for the rest of the day. Thanks _so_  much. Worst barista ever." But he took the latte (and a spoon) and went off to sit in the corner, where he spooned all the whipped cream off onto the saucer and pretended to do the crossword in the newspaper.

"I heard that," said Makoto.

"What?" His heart stopped. What did she hear?

"'Worst barista ever'?"

Seiji rolled his eyes. "J- uh, Ryouhei's a joker," he said. "Please don't fire me." Makoto was not convinced and continued restocking the cookies with fresh, warm, fragrant ones, five minutes out of the oven.

He was quiet that day, busy thinking, and didn't make much conversation with the customers. He rarely did - sometimes customers would receive snark, but it didn't seem to bother anybody except Makoto who wasn't a fan of his sharp tongue and had already pulled him into the back room on two occasions to tell him to lay off.

Why the hell _did_  Makoto hire him? She recognised him. Shouldn't she have wanted someone like him very far away? Unless it was a keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer. Because he knew he'd been sassy to the customers, which led him to believe that Makoto must have had ulterior motives. Why keep him on when he wasn't good for the cafe?

Come to think of it, Seiji realised, he'd seen Rei a few times around now too, before he knew what he knew about himself. Before he recognised her. She must have been keeping tabs on him. Rei ordered a black coffee and he was always thankful for it. She never looked at him like he was a maniac killer.

She did glare a lot, though.

But that was just her thing, surely!

...No, it was probably an I-don't-like-Zoisite thing.

Well, whatever, Rei was only one girl, and anyway, Jadeite was glaring pretty hard _back_  at her from behind the crossword, and Zoisite had a line of drinks he had to get through.

Seiji.

 _Seiji_  had a line of drinks.

"Just drown me in pumpkin spice already," he muttered to himself, then shouted out, "Latte for Hana! Come get it already."

\--

Sunday was a slow day with the cafe nearly deserted, and Makoto didn't need Zoisite on Sundays, so it made the perfect time for the girls to get together and chat.

"I don't get why you're keeping him around," said Usagi. "It's been _years_."

"Only, like, four, of them," argued Minako. "That's not all that long."

"I think it's smart," said Rei. "He clearly hates it, and that's really funny."

"Yeah, he's kind of terrible," said Makoto. "But he hustles drink on bar like you wouldn't believe. I don't know why he works that hard if he hates it so much." And he clearly did. Just watching him work put a grimace on her face.

"He was a real hard worker when he was fighting us, too," said Minako.

Only Ami had stayed quiet. She was busy with her studying and only peripherally participating in the conversation. "What do you think?" asked Makoto.

"It doesn't matter," Ami replied.

"Of course it does! You and he -"

"- are separate individuals with separate lives and separate goals," said Ami. "I have studying to do." She flipped a page, then another. "If he isn't causing any trouble, I don't see the harm in letting him stay. Do we know why he's come back? Why he's been working under a false name?"

"If it's a fake, it's a _really good_  fake," said Rei. "I checked him out, he's got records going back years."

"So he's got an in somewhere in the great paperwork machine," said Minako, "so what?"

But Ami brought up a good point. "Maybe he doesn't even realise it," said Makoto, thinking aloud. "He doesn't act like Zoisite - well, actually, yeah, he does." 'Seiji' was prissy and snobby and acted like he was too good to be nice to customers even when they were nice to him. The only reason nobody had complained too badly was because he was attractive. If you liked guys like that! Makoto didn't.

However, Makoto had talked to him at least once when there weren't too many people around and she'd put him to work sweeping the back room for her. He could hold a conversation. He didn't like what he was studying. He liked cats but didn't have any - he _loved_  Artemis, and Artemis loved the attention. Minako hated him.

And he hadn't recognised Mamoru, that one time Mamoru had come in.

Of course, Mamoru was off at university abroad and wouldn't be back until next semester.

"Well," said Makoto. "If you guys don't mind coming around more often. Just to keep them in check."

"You could take him," said Usagi.

"Yeah, but it was one thing fighting these guys in the middle of the city," replied Makoto. "I'd rather not wreck my own business because they don't know any other cafes in the area."

\--

"How did you find me, anyway?" asked Seiji.

Ryouhei - it was getting easier and easier to think of him as that, and not Jadeite, though there was still an element that tugged at his memory like a hangnail - dug the toe of his boot into the dirt and unearthed a stone, then kicked it away. He'd shown up at Seiji's apartment and rang the doorbell like a normal person and not one who had probably _followed him home_  like a total creep. "I didn't expect to," he said. "I was following Rei. She grabbed a coffee. Then I spotted you. I thought for sure you were already in on it. But I didn't say anything and you didn't seem to know me until this past Wednesday."

"Wait, you came around before?"

Ryouhei glared. "Zoisite, I've been coming by for a week now hoping you'd notice me," he said. "You don't even register the customers as separate people, do you?"

"I mean, no, I don't," said Seiji, "and also, that's not my name."

"Yes, it is," murmured Ryouhei - no, he was back to Jadeite. "Look, I know how you feel."

"You have no idea how I feel," said Seiji. "Every part of my childhood, of my life, as Seiji Yazawa, is a lie. A lie, but it felt like I lived it, but now I've got this other person's memories and it has to be me, it looks just like me - the hair, the curls - the eye colour -"

"How you look at yourself in the mirror and you swear that you can see yourself in a general's uniform," said Jadeite, "how you can still remember the way energy feels in your control when you stole it from people, how you remember Queen Beryl's silken siren voice, her hold on you - Metallia - chaos - darkness -"

"Fuck you," said Zoisite, his voice tight, and he stormed off home, and when Jadeite tried to ring the doorbell again Zoisite told his mother he was too busy studying and his _friend from school_  would have to wait until Monday.

\--

Makoto had promised Zoisite a break after the main line was through, because as openly rude as he was to Fumiko, she insisted that he was the only one who made her drink right (after she'd gotten him to remake it four times the first time they'd met). Makoto was fairly sure Fumiko was flirting with Zoisite now. Zoisite didn't seem to notice and continued to treat her the way he'd always treated her - like garbage - because Fumiko's drink had to be made in a sanitised pitcher with _just_  the right proportion of soy and rice milk blended together steamed to precisely 165 degrees which Fumiko knew because she was a Starbucks fan for years and he had to stir the milk into the pumpkin sauce four times counter-clockwise and he had to put a little latte art design on the top but it couldn't be too foamy because she'd pick it up in the paper cup and test the weight.

Fumiko was insane but she was also rich and a social media influencer and she'd brought a _lot_  of business to Makoto's cafe and Makoto did not want to lose her business.

"You know, it wouldn't hurt you to flirt back," said Makoto.

"I'm pretty sure that would literally kill me," drawled Zoisite.

Then perish, thought Makoto. "Go take your break," she said.

The door chimed once and a tall dark someone stepped through. He took off his hat and long silver-white hair spilled over his shoulders like a waterfall.

Both Makoto and Zoisite stopped breathing.

"I'll make his, then I'll go," said Zoisite softly.

Makoto threw him a look. Did he know? He had to know. He must have known. That it was Kunzite's drink he was making.

He made the drink, delivered it off in silence, and wiped the counter. "I'll go on break now, if that's alright," he said. Then Zoisite followed Kunzite out of the shop, and they sat on the bench outside. Kunzite lit up a cigarette and sipped his pumpkin spice latte, the first that Zoisite hadn't complained about making.

Minako was at the counter in a flash. "Did you just see -"

"I saw," said Makoto.

"They're planning something," Minako hissed, "they gotta be! This is too suspicious!"

Ami had followed Minako, book still in hand. "I have to agree," she said. "Jadeite was one thing. This is - those two were in league together, they always were."

"It's shenanigans!" said Minako.

It had to be. "But he was polite," said Makoto. Polite and handsome. And his ice blue eyes were warmer than she'd remembered. He didn't seem to have recognised her. He paid with credit card but he left coins in the tip jar.

"Evil always is," said Ami. "I changed my mind. I don't trust Zoisite either."

"Yeah, well, he decafs you," said Makoto.

Ami scowled. "You've been _letting him?_ " she screeched. "Do you think I can stay awake like this just naturally?! Do you have any idea how many classes I'm taking? I need that caffeine!" She slammed her book closed. "I can't believe this. How _dare_ he decaf me! After everything we were!"

"Thought you said you were separate people with separate goals and separate everything," said Makoto.

Ami glared.

Makoto pulled her two shots of espresso and watched as she downed them in a single gulp. She didn't charge Ami; the cost of the shots was covered by Kunzite's tip, anyway. Ami stomped back to her table and returned to her books, studying in a storm cloud.

"Anyway, I forgot to mention, Michiru and Haruka were in yesterday, when you were on lunch," said Minako. "They didn't recognise him. He didn't recognise them. I think he flirted with Michiru." Who doesn't, thought Makoto. "He didn't like Haruka. Maybe Haru looks too much like Jadeite. I asked them later and they said they felt nothing on him. How can he fool so many people?" She pouted. "Like he's not even that smart."

And with Minako facing her, and Ami nose-deep in a book, only Makoto had the view of Kunzite ducking down to kiss Zoisite softly once on the lips. It wasn't a brotherly kiss. But it wasn't really romantic either. Kunzite got up and left, and Zoisite remained there for the rest of his break, without moving. She suddenly felt very bad for Zoisite. That's dumb, thought Makoto. Why feel bad for the enemy?

When Zoisite returned, he didn't seem like he'd had the best lunch break. He was sullen - which was typical Zoisite - but he was also quiet and forlorn. "Someone you knew?" asked Makoto.

"Someone I thought I knew," said Zoisite tartly. "He only came by to say he wouldn't be around anymore. He's going to study abroad in New York. America." He made the next drink with a particularly sour-looking flourish and flippant flick of his wrists, cutting the foam pattern on the top to make a heart. It looked admittedly beautiful. He looked down at it and snorted. "Nice work if you can get it," he decided.

It was not until much later that Makoto realised: Mamoru was studying in New York. America was big - big enough that there were places Kunzite (or whatever name he'd picked) could study. Why had he picked New York if not to track down Mamoru?

Makoto texted the girls immediately. _Meeting_ , she wrote, _this Sunday_.

\--

On Thursday, Nephrite showed up. I'd know that stupid hair anywhere, thought Seiji. _Masato_  ordered an Americano which suited him just fine because it was an easy drink to make.

Over the bar, as he pulled the shots, he asked, "Do you remember?"

" _The twenty-first ni-ight of September_ ," sang Nephrite, grinning.

Seiji stared.

"Yes," said Nephrite, "obviously. Wow, stick up your ass much."

"The fuck is even your _problem_ ," muttered Seiji.

"Hello to you too," said Nephrite. He laughed derisively. "You don't have to be so sour about it. If it bothers you so much, I won't come around."

That sounded grand. "Great. Take our dumbass friend in the shades with you when you go. Don't forget to tell him that fedora looks stupid. How did you find this place, anyway?"

"Kenta told me," he said casually.

 _Kenta._  Honestly. Kunzite hadn't even given Zoisite his name, and he hadn't even asked what name Zoisite had had before - all of this.

"Anyway," continued Nephrite. "She letting you off work anytime soon? Jadeite and I are gonna go catch up over beers."

The sound of the J-word had Seiji shushing him. "They're watching us," he said. "Can't you at least try to be covert?"

"C'mon. You're being paranoid," said Nephrite. Then he turned around ("Don't turn around, you idiot!" hissed Seiji). "Okay, maybe they are watching us."

All four Senshi plus Moon herself were looking their way and glaring.

Nephrite gave them a big goofy grin and waved.

"You have no concept of subtlety," said Seiji.

"Hair like this? I expect not," said Nephrite. "Anyway, invite's open, if you want. If you're down for friends. If that's even a thing you understand, _Zoisite_. You always went it alone. Fuckin' annoying. There's no 'i' in team."

There was an 'i' in eviscerate. Seiji soured. "Why is it you don't call him Ryouhei and you don't call me by _my_  proper name but you called - _you know who_  - Kenta?" he muttered.

Nephrite shrugged. "I guess some of us are a bit better adjusted to what we did," he said. He smirked. "Try it sometime."

"I will decaf you 'til the end of days," said Zoisite.

"Aw," said Nephrite, "I love you too, bro."

\--

Ami arrived first on Sunday, which wasn't surprising. She took advantage of the quiet to do some studying and Makoto prepared cookie doughs for refrigeration for the rest of the week. Rei was next - checking her phone - then Usagi who had rolled out of bed at her usual time of mid-morning - then Minako who was thirty minutes late and blaming the subway and fooling nobody. The cafe was all but deserted.

Makoto explained what she'd seen and heard. "And you're sure he said New York?" said Usagi. "Did he say what university?"

"Well, no," replied Makoto. Kunzite didn't stick around long enough for details. Or if he did, Zoisite didn't mention them to Makoto. She should've endeared herself more to him to be able to get more out of him. He couldn't know they knew.

"There's more than one university in New York," said Ami, who had probably scoped them all out at one point or another for her own studies, before coming to the realisation that she was happier at home and that Japanese universities gave perfectly good qualifications, too. "He didn't even say New York _City_. Maybe he's going to Cornell. That's upstate."

"Oh, come on," said Minako. "That's too much of a coincidence! Think about it - Mamoru goes to New York to study and now so does Kunzite? He's up to something."

"We haven't heard from Queen Beryl in years," said Rei. "If he were up to anything, why would it be related to the Dark Kingdom?"

"Uh, because that was this creep's M.O.?" Minako seemed convinced. "Look, I know Mamoru can handle himself, I just think it's a bad idea."

"If we pooled our savings, we could probably send Usagi to make sure he's okay," said Ami. She grinned. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind visiting him anyway."

"I can't ask you guys to do that," said Usagi. "That's a lot of money!"

"We don't even know if he knows Mamoru's there," pointed out Rei.

Minako rolled her eyes. "Because he threw a dart at a world map and it magically landed where his former king - same guy he betrayed! Same guy! - is now studying. Sure."

Rei glared. "I'm just saying, we don't know how much he knows about Mamoru. If he knows about Mamoru."

"We could use more information," said Ami.

"Right," said Makoto, since it was obvious. She was the one who spent the most time with Zoisite - more often alone now, late at night, before she sent him home. She grimaced, not looking forward to it, and told herself that it was because she thought herself a poor intelligence agent. Not because she felt bad for Zoisite or anything.

"Isn't this exactly why you hired Zoisite in the first place?" blurted Usagi. "You wanted to keep tabs on him. Get information out of him."

There was a sound in the backroom, like someone had shifted a box. Then a loud crash and a soft, " _Dammit_."

Ami and Minako were already on their feet. "Stay here," warned Makoto.

She slipped into the back room to find Zoisite awkwardly holding one box of pumpkin spice sauce. Another had fallen to the ground. Lucky they were in cardboard packs and not jars. Knew I shouldn't have given him a key to this place, she thought.

"I can explain," said Zoisite. He set the box of sauce gently down on the ground and held his hands up.

In two steps Makoto had strode over to him. She whipped one of his hands by the wrist and wrenched it behind him, then elbowed him in the back and threw him face-first against the wall. She pressed him there with her body. "What the hell are you doing here, _Seiji_ ," she growled in his ear. "You don't work Sundays."

"Ow," said Zoisite, his cheek mashed against the wall, "please - let me up - god, what's your _deal_ , Makoto -"

Makoto twisted his wrist the wrong way and he groaned. "What is _your_  deal, you shifty creep?" she snarled.

"Alright alright alright," he panted. "I saw the texts you sent. I overheard what you said about Mamoru."

Makoto twisted harder. "So you do know him," she said.

"No! I've never even met the guy! Not - like this, anyway."

What did he mean _not like this?_

"You're wrong about Kenta," he protested. "Kunzite, I mean. He's - he's not ..." Zoisite sighed. "Look, can you just let me go?"

She did, but she put both hands on either side of his head, palm-down on the wall. He turned around to face her. "I'm waiting," said Makoto. Zoisite's eyes darted to her hands, realising he was boxed in, and then to her face, with its no-nonsense expression.

"He's not like us," Zoisite explained. "He's not as adjusted. If that makes any sense. If _I'm_  adjusted. And I didn't think I was, but he's twenty-nine now, he's got half a life, and he just found out he ..." Zoisite faltered. He looked sad, ashamed. "That he used to be a servant of evil," he finished. "You think that's easy? For any of us?"

"Evil is as evil does," said Makoto, "look at you skulking around here like a snake."

"Yeah, that's, okay so I shouldn't have," said Zoisite, petulant, "but you all knew about me before _I_  even knew about me, and you said nothing, and that wasn't fair! I don't know what triggered it - I don't know that anything did. But all of a sudden I remember every awful thing, and here you all are talking trash about us."

"Right, Zoisite, you're the big victim," said Makoto.

Zoisite glared. "I still go by Seiji," he said, "not that anybody seems to care. Well, at least I didn't up and move to a different country."

"Maybe you should have."

"Kunz- _Kenta_ ," said Zoisite, "knows that he remembers it all too. Weird stuff. The moment he realised - because he knew when we were all ... you know."

"When you were Dark Kingdom generals," said Makoto.

Zoisite glowered. "Yeah, that. He had a flash of a memory. Endymion. Mamoru, now. He remembered pledging allegiance to him. He remembered that it smelled like rotten meat, where Queen Metallia was kept. Kunzite found that. He put it together. He - he's not going to find Mamoru. Endymion. He's going to find himself."

"But, New York," she said.

"There's more than one university in New York," said Zoisite.

Ami had said the same thing. "I know that," Makoto replied.

"So it was all - it's complicated," said Zoisite. "And you know what, we're not exactly thrilled that he's uncomplicating it way the fuck over there in some other country. That's not cool! For any of us! But ... there's just nothing for him here except bad memories."

"Right now, we're bad memories," said Makoto flatly. _They_  were the bad memories. The Senshi. Poor Kunzite. Poor Generals! "Whatever," she decided, "I get it."

Then she realised something. "Why aren't you going with him?"

"Same reason I'm working here at your shitty cafe," said Zoisite. "I haven't got the cash."

Makoto shook her head. "No, I mean - you two were - he'd pay for you, right? Thought you two were a thing."

Zoisite sighed. "When I said there was nothing for him here except bad memories," he said, "I meant us. I think me most of all. So you can go on and tell Venus who is listening -" there was a clumsy scramble at the door as someone backed up - "that it doesn't have anything to do with her."

"For the record, I didn't think it did!" shouted Minako from the other room.

"Thanks for eavesdropping!" Zoisite yelled back. He turned back to Makoto, and said, "I lied, anyway. This is a really nice cafe. It's pretty chill and clean and nicely decorated and you bake like a dream. It's kind of perfect. People aren't even that rude. Not even Fumiko. I hate it so much."

"Go home, Zoisite," said Makoto.

He flounced off, but before he could slam the back door she thought better of it and yelled after him. "7 am Monday! I need you back here for exam rush!"


	4. winter is coming (Checkpoint Charlie)

Winter was not just coming - it had already come. It was something like a nuclear winter, if Zoisite could believe the things that were going on outside of Crystal Tokyo. He was stationed close to the boundary at what he fondly joked to Quicksilver was "the cafe at the edge of the universe". (It was always cafes. Zoisite was starting to wonder whether King Endymion thought he was being funny.) And from his vantage point he could see out towards the rest of the planet - devastated by the plague that had ripped through it over nine hundred years ago. It was too fast-acting to cure, it was too fast-acting even to study, and the only thing that had worked was the use of the Silver Crystal. Sailor Moon had adopted the title Neo-Queen Serenity, and the rest was, more or less, history.

Three people were left in the cafe, and only one was loitering around his bar, a woman with a large frame who was perpetually forty-one and whose codename was Granja. "Say, kiddo, where's that -"

"Triple-shot midi seven-pump extra-hot extra-whip pumpkin spice? I didn't forget about it," said Zoisite, who was pulling the third shot calmly. "You going out again?"

Granja scoffed. "I gotta," she said. "Earth don't rehabilitate herself."

"Nasty out there," he replied. "Be careful."

"My team needs me," said Granja. Zoisite could respect that. It had taken him a long time to warm up to his own team, back when he'd been on one. He'd had a long time with them, and almost all of them were still around. The Silver Crystal hadn't just purified Crystal Tokyo of the plague - it had a strange side effect. Zoisite had been nearly-thirty for over nine centuries, without looking a day over twenty-five, thanks.

It was never obligatory that the people came. It wasn't _demanded_  of them to flock to Crystal Tokyo in droves and be cleansed in the healing power of the Silver Crystal and enjoy everlasting life. Serenity and Endymion hadn't insisted on it, and some had resisted. Those that did had made their way to a place they called Nemesis or the Black Moon, so Zoisite had heard (from Crystal Intelligence and Granja, who fought them). Their leader said he had found an alternative method to cure the plague. Did that method give them immortality? Zoisite wasn't sure. What he was sure of was that he'd finally backed the right horse. There was Endymion's side, and there were the resistors. Zoisite was no longer a resistor.

Protector came not long after Granja left, and after the other two members of the border guard had returned to their post. There wasn't a lot of business to be had in a place like this, and it was easy to find it empty. Not like Shockwave's old cafe, buzzing with life. This one felt sterile.

"Got a moment for an old friend?" asked Protector. "Could really use a coffee."

"My honour to serve," Zoisite replied, since Protector was a codename too - for Endymion himself (who was four centuries too old to be making the kinds of terrible fashion choices he did).

Protector took a seat and gestured for Zoisite to do the same. "I just got word from Victrix," he said. Another codename - Venus'. "Mission's been scrubbed." So no Dark Crystal fragments for Quicksilver to analyse. She'd be pissed. "But there's been a development in the Missing Stone case."

Zoisite's eyes widened. "News?"

Protector positively beamed. "The best," he said.

Zoisite wasn't as happy - Nephrite's own fault he was captured so easily by what amounted to little more than a droid of the Black Moon Clan. He could hear Quicksilver's annoyance already: Nephrite instead of a shard of Dark Crystal? A poor trade.

Still... "How is he," Zoisite asked, concerned.

"As well as can be expected," said Protector. He said, a little more grimly. "He survives, let's put it that way. We'll be making the exchange in two hours."

"I thought we still needed Saphir's intelligence," protested Zoisite.

"We've got as much as I think we're going to get out of him," said Protector. "In Spark's estimation, anyway." Fair enough, thought Zoisite. Mars was a formidable interrogator. "So we'll give him back and in exchange they've promised us Nephrite." Protector looked around, nervous. "If it's okay," he said, "I'd like to have them pass through here."

"What - _here_  - yeah, okay - go for it," said Zoisite in a breathless rush.

"Could be dangerous," warned Protector.

"This is the most interesting thing that's happened in a decade," said Zoisite. "For my sake, I hope it is."

\--

Saphir looked like he could be Endymion's twin, except for the nasty smirk on his face. "We'll be back, barista boy," he sneered on his way out.

"Can't wait," said Zoisite blandly, "I'll scald your milk."

"Keep marching," said the Crystal Guard, Panther. (A thousand years was a long time to get to know everybody's names.)

Quicksilver marched along with them. "Zoisite," she said, in greeting.

"Quicksilver," replied Zoisite, murmuring low and throaty it like a devotion.

"Not in public," she whispered, and he laughed.

Then they exited the cafe to the airlock which would lead them to the long bridge that connected Crystal Tokyo to the barren wastes of the mainland.

Thirty minutes later Panther and Quicksilver returned with Nephrite in tow.

Zoisite straightened, shocked, and all the anger he might have harboured towards Nephrite - this dumbass who got himself captured - this idiot who made them all worry, Jadeite had been physically nauseous with anxiety for days - was up in smoke.

Nephrite had lost a third of his weight in his body to say nothing of his hair, which had been messily and unevenly hacked off. He wasn't bearded, which was a good sign - the power of the Silver Crystal should have preserved his face as it was, unbearded. That meant that even though he'd been gone three decades and theoretically outside of range of the Silver Crystal and its powers, there had been no change in his physiology. What that implied for the plague and its cure and its effects, Zoisite didn't know - crystal medicine wasn't exactly his forte. Quicksilver would probably be looking into that herself, and Nephrite could expect a barrage of tests in his future. He wore no shoes, he was dressed in filthy rags, he stank, and either dried blood or dirt or both was caked on his face.

Saphir, meanwhile, had been treated with the utmost respect and had walked out with his head held high.

"If you don't mind," said Quicksilver, "I'll leave him here with you for now. We've got a little paperwork." And before Zoisite could agree, she had already directed him to a chair. I will have to burn that chair, thought Zoisite, and then he realised it really didn't matter. "Back in an hour," she said, and she and Panther left.

The door closed behind them, and Zoisite _moved_. He got a glass - a real crystal glass, not a crysta-plastic one - and filled it with water. Then in three quick strides he was across from Nephrite, sitting down, trying to hold his nose and not look like he was, and shoving the water forward.

Nephrite grinned through cracked, chapped lips, then winced.

"You don't have to speak," said Zoisite.

Nephrite took three careful sips and set the water down. "I want to," he croaked.

\--

The Black Moon Clan were less than hospitable, that was obvious, but for the most part they had been interested in what kind of effects the Silver Crystal had had on Nephrite. They couldn't seem to figure it out. Their leader, who Nephrite had said called himself Wiseman, was stumped, and no test he was able to perform gave him any insight. After that, they had forgotten about him for a time - Nephrite didn't know how long. Then they tried some kind of brainwashing, to convince him that the Black Moon Clan would save the Earth from the power and unshakeable hold of Neo-Queen Serenity and her Senshi. That Neo-Queen Serenity was leading them all astray. Nephrite admitted he didn't know if the message took, and that he fully expected he'd be sitting with Spark for a few months trying to undo any damage to his mind.

"Well, we're old hats at brainwashing," said Zoisite. "They're not even your _first_."

Nephrite chuckled, then abruptly coughed. "Don't make me laugh," he said, "it hurts to laugh."

As he drank - first water, then weak tea - the words came more easily and he spoke more of what he saw there. Nephrite, too, had wondered if maybe there were some parallels. "Way back when, with the _Great Redeemer_ ," said Nephrite bitterly.

"You were the last to come on-board," said Zoisite.

"I believed all the same," said Nephrite. "Enough people looked at me and thought, _dumb meathead Westerner_. I had a chip on my shoulder, I'll admit it. Made me easy pickings for someone like Beryl."

Zoisite, abashed, pretended he hadn't thought exactly that. If it hadn't been for Nephrite's strange astronomical powers - he'd claimed the stars could talk to him, and whatever story it was it had given them a strong tactical advantage, because he knew things that a dumb meathead Westerner shouldn't know. Zoisite hadn't thought him, back then, to be much use. He still wasn't much use. He got his dumb self into trouble, didn't he?

The parallels were clear: yet again Earth had over reached its powers, in the opinion of some. Who, said the Black Moon leader, gave Neo-Queen Serenity the right to judge mortality? Who gave her the right to take it away? And he wouldn't listen to the theory that Endymion favoured, which was that the plague had to be cured and Serenity had had no idea it came at so high a cost.

 _Was_  it a high cost? Wasn't it good, never to have sickness? Never to have death?

But maybe some things were worse than death, and some things were better than permanent life.

Zoisite had never been much on philosophy.

Those that lived in the Crystal Palace, in proximity to the Silver Crystal, had eternal life. Those that had divided themselves away ... Zoisite wasn't sure what they had. He'd never been to the black moon. He didn't have much of a yearn for it. Maybe they were being kept alive by some dark force. Dark Kingdom Part Two.

Yet again a select few were divided away, of different opinion, and were collecting steam as a movement. Collecting something, if Nephrite's intelligence was good. They didn't have people, but they were gaining power. From where, it couldn't be sure. The same place Beryl had gotten it from? Metallia? Chaos?

And a small part of Zoisite wondered about the people Nephrite had met. Or Saphir, maybe. Were they like Zoisite had been, centuries ago? Manipulated?

"Anyway," said Nephrite. "I'm not so sure about this Wiseman fellow."

"Did you speak with him much?"

Nephrite shook his head. "They wouldn't allow me to," he said. "I only saw and heard his words through someone named Calaveras - she could read minds, toy with thoughts. She tried to make it one-way but she wasn't very good at it, and - hah - like you said, it's not my first rodeo. She let slip a thing or two. And she knew that the more information I got the more likely it would be that they wouldn't be able to give me away like this."

"I'm surprised they did give you away," said Zoisite.

Nephrite was grim. "You know, there's one and only one reason they did. They wanted Saphir back." Kunzite had been the one who had captured Saphir. Years - decades - of careful intelligence work, luring him into the right place at the right time to capture him. "Did you learn anything from him?"

Zoisite shook his head.

"You can tell me, you know, I'm on the same side," said Nephrite a little angrily. "You can trust me. I didn't _switch_."

"It's not that," said Zoisite. Well, it wasn't _only_  that. "We didn't get very much from him at all. We thought - maybe if he was with the Queen. He took a shine to her. But Endymion didn't much like that."

"Jealousy?"

"Using his wife as bait. Making her do our dirty work."

"She's not born yesterday," said Nephrite. "It's not half bad an idea."

"He's not keen on using his family like that," said Zoisite. "I guess I can understand it."

If anything happened to Mercury...

And they couldn't be said to be family. Years went by sometimes and they didn't talk. They'd slept together only a handful of times. It wasn't the great romance that some of them had. But out of all of them he still had an affinity for her. Even hundreds of years later. He couldn't explain it. He'd given up trying.

"If Saphir had taken a shine to any of us, I'm sure we would've done the work like we were supposed to," reasoned Nephrite. "But he didn't, did he."

"No," said Zoisite.

"And what about Small Lady," asked Nephrite. "I've heard rumours."

"No word," said Zoisite. Maybe the treatment worked and she would start aging at a normal rate again. Maybe it didn't, and she would stay the way she had been: in the body and mind of a child.

"She was supposed to grow up nine hundred years ago," said Nephrite. "Slow aging doesn't mean stopped. They like to talk about it, in the Black Moon Clan. Time is  _all_ they talk about."

Well, they'd figure it out. Quicksilver hadn't done all that work in medicine for nothing.

Quicksilver returned around three with Panther in tow to collect Nephrite. "Go take a bath," said Zoisite. Nephrite threw him a rude gesture and staggered off with Panther. Quicksilver remained. She ordered the same thing she always ordered, and he knew how she liked it.

"Sorry about leaving him here," she said. "I wanted him in the quarantine for a little while for observation, to make sure he didn't show any signs. I was watching through the two-way crystal. You were never in any danger, yourself. I promise."

Quarantine - because the sterility of the cafe was two-fold. "And?" asked Zoisite. "Did you see anything?"

"Nothing. Good and bad - I'm sorry to say I was hoping it would have had an effect to be away from the Silver Crystal that long. Maybe it would spell good news for Small Lady. Oh, can you put that in a crysta-plastic?" she added, just as Zoisite was sprinkling the pumpkin spice blend on top of the whipped cream, all of which was already inside a teacup.

"Too late," he said. "Spend fifteen minutes with me, it won't kill you."

Utarit - Mercury - Ami - Quicksilver - told him that there was no good news from inside the palace. "We don't know what to do for Small Lady," she said.

"It's hurting her?"

"No, but it isn't curing her either."

Zoisite thought. "Tell Spark," he said slowly, "that Nephrite's intelligence suggested Black Moon might have someone inside the Palace." How else could Black Moon know what they did? Nephrite had mentioned rumours.

Quicksilver leaned in closer. "Do you have any theories?"

"Everything old is new again," said Zoisite, regretfully. "I'd say they've started with propaganda. That the power of the Silver Crystal is waning. That if Neo-Queen Serenity can't even use it on her own daughter, she definitely doesn't have enough power for anyone else."

"And do you believe the propaganda?"

"No," said Zoisite. "Not this time." Black Moon was wrong. Dangerous, but wrong.

Quicksilver was silent. "You know," she said, fiddling with the handle on the teacup, "it only took me two hours to decode that data crystal you gave me."

Zoisite frowned. "I haven't given you anything like that. I haven't even seen you in months."

She shook her head. "Ages ago," she replied. "When we were very young and the world was new. When I trusted you." In the Silver Millennium. The original one. "I realised it immediately for what it was. If you hadn't given it to me ... we wouldn't be here, Zoisite."

He shrugged. "Sure you would have."

"I'm serious," said Quicksilver. "There was enough in that crystal to put together that in Endymion's forces there were moles who passed seditious literature. That we had to prepare for a threat. When it came we weren't ready, but we weren't as bad off as we could have been. Queen Serenity had not seen it coming."

It could be, then, that Nephrite's information was a taste of things to come too.

"I liked to think that... maybe you'd done it on purpose," she added. "That maybe a part of you hadn't fully betrayed us. And that part had given us the barest fighting chance."

"I never apologised for any of my actions," said Zoisite.

"But I never asked you to," said Quicksilver. She reached over the table and put her hand over his. He took her hand and raised it to his mouth. Not to kiss - just to graze his lips across her smooth skin.

"This time, when the time comes," he murmured, "I'll be at your side."

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!


End file.
